


When I Met You

by goingtothetardis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Romance, Through the Years, Winter/Christmas themes, dw secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8721220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goingtothetardis/pseuds/goingtothetardis
Summary: John meets Rose when he offers some comfort after a breakup. They're friends for years, through many ups and downs, until they allow themselves to have what they've wanted all along.





	1. The One Where They Meet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commandercrouton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/commandercrouton/gifts).



> This story is for commandercrouton, who is my 2016 DW Secret Santa recipient! The prompt was: "I'd like to see the classic best friends through college, each helping each other through breakups, but it's not until a time period in their life where they are both single they can act on their feelings."
> 
> I have to confess, I struggled a lot with finding inspiration for this prompt, because my personal headcanon in any universe is that the Doctor (or any AU version of him) doesn't date a lot (if ever) and it took me a while to figure out how to work with this prompt. But the Doctor is always pursued by various ladies, so I decided to approach it from that angle. College AUs aren't my forte, and it was a challenge to write. But I'm stubborn, and I eventually found a way to do it. I hope you enjoy it!! Merry Christmas!! xo
> 
> Many, many thanks to Jeeno2 and Crazygirlne for the beta help and for letting me bounce ideas off you guys. 
> 
> P.S. I'm uploading this all at once, because I'm going out of town next week for the holidays, and I needed to make sure this was done before I left. Oh, and as an extra note, which I'm sure you'll figure out, each chapter is 1/2 Rose POV and 1/2 John POV. The story takes place at roughly the same time each year for four years.

**YEAR ONE**

Rose sits on the park bench in the middle of campus, head bowed in an attempt to ward off the wintry mist while trying to choke back sobs that threaten to overwhelm her. She hates that that wanker still has the power to crush her soul and drag her down, even though she’s _finally_ rid of him. Despite her stubborn determination, she can’t help the few tears that trickle down her cheeks. Just as she sniffles loudly and wipes her woolen gloves across her cheeks, a voice beside her speaks.

“Ehm, excuse me. Are you alright?” 

Rose jumps in surprise and looks up to find a concerned face peering down at her. He looks vaguely familiar, perhaps someone she’s seen on campus before, and he’s wearing a long brown coat over a pinstriped suit, complete with sodden Converse shoes on his feet. His hair, heavy with moisture, hangs limply around his forehead. She blinks before staring into the bloke’s attentive, brown eyes. 

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Just… Yeah,” she says, aware of her shallow attempt to convince him otherwise. 

Rose holds in a sigh when he sits down next to her without asking. 

“Hi, I’m John. John Noble,” he says before holding out a hand. 

With a sniffle, Rose answers, “Rose Tyler.”

“Pleased to meet you, Rose. But, if it’s not too rude of me to say, you don’t really look like you’re all right.”

Rose snorts and turns to John, the urge to laugh warring with the urge to cry. Instead, she barks out a noise that’s a combination of the two and gives him a watery smile. “‘S a bit rude, yeah.”

He has the decency to look somewhat chagrined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My cousin, Donna, always goes on and on about how rude I am. Really, sometimes I think I’m cursed.” He stops suddenly and shakes his head. “Look at me, being rude again, talking about myself when you’re clearly the one who needs someone to talk to.”

Rose blinks, her forehead furrowing in confusion as she tries to follow his rambling gob. 

Clearing his throat in an attempt to get over the slightly awkward moment, John leans over to Rose. “So look, I was walking by, and you looked upset about something. I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay. You’re not in danger, are you?”

“No, I’m not. ‘S just…” She stops, chewing on her lip while she decides whether or not to share her story with John, a virtual stranger. There’s something about him, however, that makes her feel like she can trust him. And without quite knowing why, she decides to continue. “My boyfriend just dumped me, called me a bloody whore after _I’m_ the one who found _him_ in bed with another woman.” She exhales a long, shaky breath. “But now I owe 800 quid for bills he won’t pay, have an expensive Christmas gift I can’t return for a bloody, undeserving wanker, an’ I have to move back in with Mum. I just had to get away for a bit. ‘S all.”

John gives her a sympathetic look. “Blimey, I’m so sorry, Rose.”

Rose claps her hand over her mouth. “No, I’m sorry. You didn’t need to know all that. ‘M not sure why I told you my sob story. I’m better off without him, anyway. Mum was right.”

John’s quiet for a moment, and Rose watches as he looks out over the park. Finally, he reaches an arm up and scratches the back of his neck before turning to her. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but sitting out here in the rain and cold isn’t going to do either of us any good. Can I get you a cup of coffee? It’s not paying off your debt, but maybe it’ll help a bit.”

Smiling her trademark tongue-touched smile for the first time in a _long_ time, Rose answers John. “Sounds lovely, but how about chips instead? I’m starving.” 

“Brilliant! Now,” he holds out a hand, “up you get. No time for moping when I’m around.” 

Rose giggles, feeling as though some of the weight on her shoulders has been removed by John’s concern and enthusiasm. She takes his offered hand, and their fingers clasp together naturally as they walk toward her favorite chippy.

**& &&&&**

“I’m so sorry, Rose. I’m so, so sorry!” He can’t _believe_ he forgot his wallet. Today of all days.

Rose simply smirks and roots through her purse, pulling out her wallet. “What kind of cheap date are you?”

_Date?_

She blushes and immediately fumbles for a save. “I mean, you made some big talk back there about taking me for a coffee, and it turns out you never even had your wallet.”

John huffs, playing along, knowing she didn’t mean her slip of word. Besides, despite his curious attraction to Rose, he knows he can’t make a move on her, even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. She needs to know not all men are bloody arseholes, and turning into another smarmy bloke instead of a friend isn’t the way to do that. 

He cringes while she pays and accepts his basket of chips from her with a sheepish grin. They settle at a table, and he can’t help but stare when Rose moans as she bites into a chip. Clearing his throat, he asks a question. “So, Rose. Tell me about yourself. Are you a student?”

Rose swallows before answering. “Mmm, yeah. I’m twenty-three. Took the long route to get my A-levels, then came to uni. My course is in art, with a preference to painting and photography.”

“Art! _Brilliant!_ I’m sure you’re gonna be the next van Gogh!”

Rose snorts. “Not bloody likely.” She takes a moment to eat a few more chips. “But I enjoy it, and it’s better than folding jumpers at Henrick’s. So what about you? What’s your story?”

Although he should have expected the question, he’s momentarily blindsided by it and forgets to hide his emotions behind his the mask he’s so carefully built around himself. While he knows she catches the brief, dark look that crosses his face, he for some reason finds it exceptionally challenging to maintain the facade he usually hides his not-so-happy past behind, even after such a short time with Rose. He doesn’t even _know_ her, so she definitely doesn’t need to know about the tragic story about his family crashing to their untimely deaths in a fiery plane crash several years prior. “Oh, I’m just your typical PhD candidate student. I live a life of research, study of the stars, physics, teaching, and occasionally some adventure on the side.”

“You think you’re so impressive,” Rose says with a laugh.

“I _am_ so impressive,” he answers, adjusting his tie with a haughty little sniff. 

For a moment they just stare at each other until they burst into simultaneous laughter, earning several concerned glances from other patrons of the chippy. This makes them laugh even harder, until they’re falling into each other, holding their sides in hysterics. 

And from that moment on, John and Rose are almost inseparable.


	2. The One Where They Pretend to Date

**YEAR TWO**

Almost a year to the day after their first meeting, John and Rose huddle together on their favorite sofa at their favorite coffee shop. It sits in front of an abstract piece of art featuring one of the old police boxes from the 1960s. After she and John became friends, she’d shown him the painting, and he’d been fascinated with the police box and had imagined it as a spaceship, of all things. Since then, every time they’ve met for a cuppa, they discuss the various places the police box could take them. 

“What about a planet far, far into the future? What if this Earth is destroyed and there’s a new earth?” John gazes speculatively at the painting. “Oh! It’s called New Earth, and instead of normal grass like here on our Earth, there’s… there’s apple grass!”

“ _Apple grass_ ,” Rose echoes, nodding in agreement. “Does it smell like apples?”

“Of course it does!” 

Rose sighs happily, eyes closed as she imagines the futuristic city he describes. In the background, the barista calls out the name Christina, and Rose is pulled from her daydream. “Speaking of Christina,” she begins cautiously, “how’s your stalker?”

John sighs heavily. “She won’t leave me alone. I share office hours with Professor Mott, and he’s had to put a sign-up sheet outside the office so we can screen our appointments.”

Rose rolls her eyes. An old research assistant of John’s has been vying for his attentions as of late, and despite his attempts to dissuade her interests, she’s been relentless in her mission to get back together with John. Now that she thinks of it, Rose isn’t certain that John and…

“What’s her full name again?” she asks. 

“Christina de Souza.” John makes a sour face. “Excuse me, _Lady_ Christina de Souza.”

Rose frowns. The stalker is a _Lady_? Not that it matters, or anything. Not that she thinks this nutter has any chance at all with John. 

It’s not like _she’s_ interested in John. 

Sighing internally, Rose knows she can’t lie to herself. _Of course_ she’s interested in John. It hadn’t taken long for her to fall head over heels for her best friend, but she’s certain they’re strictly in the friend zone by now, and she definitely doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize their close friendship.

Besides, relationships are complicated, and the last thing Rose wants is a repeat of Jimmy. 

“Rose?” 

“Huh? What?” She’s pulled back to the present when John waves his hand in front of her face. 

“There you are. I lost you for a moment,” he says. 

Rose blushes, thankful he can’t read her mind. “Um, yeah, sorry. Thought I forgot to study for an exam tomorrow, but I remembered it’s next week.”

John peers at Rose, clearly trying to figure out if she’s telling the truth, and then he shrugs. “I was saying, I think Christina is going to ask me to the holiday ball, and I don’t know how to say no.”

With a laugh, Rose lightly smacks his leg. “Rude, you are.”

“That’s me,” John grins. “Rude and not ginger.”

Rose affectionately ruffles his hair. “Jus’ say no, then.”

“But Rose, she has this way of boxing me in, and I panic and don’t know what to do. I’m telling you, the woman is relentless.”

Rose thinks a minute, chewing on her thumbnail. _She_ doesn’t have a date for the university’s formal holiday ball and had simply planned to just meet up with John, Donna, and his friend Jack at the event. But she’s always willing to help John out in a moment of need, and the solution is obvious.

“I could be your date,” she offers. 

“What?”

Rose sighs. Of course he doesn’t get it. “ _I’ll_ be your date, but Christina doesn’t need to know we’re just going as friends. I’ll be with you the whole time, and she’ll know for sure that _I’m_ the one at your side for the night.”

“Oh!” he squeaks, and Rose bites her tongue to hold back a smirk. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t make any moves on you. Unless you want me to, that is.” Now she lets a wide smile creep across her face, and Rose can’t help the laughter that bubbles out at the shell-shocked expression on John’s face. “I’m just taking the mickey. Calm down.”

**& &&&&**

Rose hangs onto John’s arm, a glass of champagne held loosely in her other hand, and titters loudly at one of Jack’s outlandish stories. Donna looks on with thinly veiled amusement, aware that Rose is putting on a rather exuberant act for the evening in an attempt to fend off his rather insistent admirer.

He shakes his head, pretending to react to Jack’s story. In reality, however, it’s impossible for him to focus on anything (or anyone) but Rose. When he’d arrived on her doorstep, he’d had to cover his reaction to seeing Rose in her low-cut, deep emerald gown by going off on a tangent about the flowers he’d brought her. She’d taken his breath away in her formal attire – still takes his breath away, if he’s being honest – and he’s finding it hard to remember his endless list of excuses to not step past the clear boundaries he’s erected between them in the last year – reasons for which he’s finding increasingly difficult to remember.

“John! It’s about time I found you,” a familiar voice exclaims from his side. “You’re a slippery one, you are.”

_Oh no._

“John?” Rose asks, pressing herself close to him. “Who’s this?”

He swallows at the feel of Rose’s curves pressed against his body. “Ehm, Rose, this is an old acquaintance, the Lady Christina de Souza.”

Across from them, Jack shifts forward as if to introduce himself, a distraction John would welcome gladly, but Christina speaks before Jack can get a word in. 

Christina smirks. “Oh, after those adventures we had, we’re rather more than acquaintances, don’t you think?” She leers suggestively. 

Jack steps back and crosses his arms, looking as though he’s decided to watch what will most certainly be a train wreck encounter. 

Rose’s eyes widen in surprise, and she leans slightly away from his side to pierce him with a speculative look. His body instinctively follows her, but she holds out her hand to prevent him from getting closer. “Oh? Sounds like a good story, John. Care to share with the rest of the class?”

Christina turns to Rose and lets her eyes travel down Rose’s body and back up again, before she redirects her attention to John. “Hmm, I see you picked up a perky, blond chav since we last saw each other. I’m disappointed in you, John.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” John fights back a grin at Rose’s outrage. 

“Ehm, Christina, that’s not really necessary. Rose is brilliant and beautiful, and is completely undeserving of your assessment,” John says. 

He chances a quick glance at Rose, and she’s blushing slightly, biting her lower lip. 

“My apologies, Rose,” Christina says, somewhat sincerely. “But John, look at you. We had such adventures together on that dig in Egypt. I saved your life, and you saved mine.”

“Christina, I really think it’s best–”

She continues as if she didn’t hear him. “And now you’re back at university, studying who knows what instead of having adventures out there in the universe.” Christina waves her arms up in the air. “We’re made for each other, John. You said so yourself; we’re the perfect team. I want more days like those. I want every day to be an adventure with you.” She’s slightly breathless at the end, hope written all over her features. 

Rose has pulled away from him, and her eyes flit restlessly between him and Christina. Oh, this is exactly why he doesn’t wear tuxes. Nothing good ever happens when he wears one. 

He tries again. “Christina, it was one day, one adventure, and yes– We made a good _team_. That’s it, nothing more. We were in a spot of danger and worked together to get out and save the lives of everyone with us on that bus.”

Christina deflates slightly but presses on. “But why not, John? _Really_ , why not?”

“People have travelled with me, have been part of my life in one way or another, and I've lost them. Lost them all. Never again.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and at the sound of a ragged gasp from Rose, he turns to her. 

“We could’ve been so good together,” Christina interrupts once more.

John fixes her with a stern glare. “ _Goodbye_ , Christina.” When she finally walks away, he breathes a sigh of relief and returns his attention to Rose. “Rose, I’m so sorry.”

He glances at Jack and Donna, both of whom simply pin him with matching expressions of pure irritation, and shakes his head.

“I feel like I’ve just seen the future,” Rose says, her gaze slightly unfocused. “Is that what you do, then? Make friends when you need them or when you feel like you’re needed and then just leave them behind whenever you start to feel too involved?”

_Bloody, stupid tux._

__“No.” He stares intently at Rose. “Not to you. Any of you.” He looks at Jack and Donna standing awkwardly at the side. This whole conversation has evolved into something he certainly wasn’t planning to deal with tonight. “But especially not to you, Rose.”_ _

__She studies him for several long seconds, her face unreadable. “Why?” she asks._ _

__“I… Because, I…” Oh, blimey, he’s not good at this. “Because you’re _Rose_ ,” he finishes lamely._ _

__Rose’s mouth hardens into a firm line, and she takes a deep breath. “I need to go.” She turns on her heel, and walks away, quickly disappearing into the crowd._ _

__John stares after her in shock before turning to Jack and Donna, the latter of which is rolling her eyes. “What just happened?”_ _

__“Oh, you really are a great, big outer space dunce, aren’t you?”_ _

__“What?” he squeaks._ _


	3. The One Where They’re Apart

**YEAR THREE**

Rose walks hand in hand though the park with Mickey, her childhood friend and on-off again boyfriend. Snow falls gently around them, and as they walk past a certain park bench, it’s not Mickey Rose is thinking about. It’s John. 

Things hadn’t been the same between them after the winter ball a year ago, and Rose eventually stopped responding to his texts and calls for fear of getting her heart too invested in someone like John. He’d been clear about how he keeps friends (or doesn’t, rather), how he can’t let them get close, and, well... despite her hopes that _maybe_ there could eventually be something between them, the words he’d uttered to Christina had shown her the truth of his ways. 

Sometimes it’s simply easier to let go than to deal with unnecessary heartache. And when Mickey had asked her out again a few months ago, she’d agreed, and they’d quickly fallen back into their familiar routine. No one could fault her for being lonely around the holidays, and Mickey is comfortable. Predictable. And he treats her well. She doesn’t _need_ a bloke, especially when she’s swamped in her projects and studies, but it’s still nice to have one. 

And besides, the last time she’d heard from John had been early in the spring when he’d messaged her saying he’d been accepted into a research program at NASA in Texas. The research was a major portion of his doctorate dissertation, and getting into this program was a once in a lifetime opportunity. She’s happy for him, really, but she realizes now that John had simply been one of those friends who’d been there for her during a challenging phase of her life. She’s thankful, however, that she’s still friends with Jack and Donna, the two she’d met through her friendship with John. 

Rose rolls her eyes, considering Jack and Donna. They both think John is arse over kettle in love with her, but she vehemently denies their claims. John never acted on his feelings, had been rather obvious about his reluctance to get involved, and she studiously ignores the fact that she didn’t act on her feelings either. 

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Mickey asks, uncharacteristically in touch with her thoughts at the moment. 

“Who?” Rose asks, pretending she doesn’t know who he’s talking about.

Mickey sighs. “Rose, stop playing games. You know I’m talking about John. He’s not even here, and I still sometimes feel like I’m just that other guy. The one you’re settling for, not the one you really want.”

Rose doesn’t answer, because she hates how right Mickey is, and while she feels terrible about the truth, she can’t exactly deny it. 

“Yeah, I’m good, aren’t I? Bet you didn’t think I’d guess that. But I know you, Rose, and you’re not happy with me,” Mickey says.

“Micks, that’s not true. You’ve always made me happy.”

“Yeah, but not like I should. Not like John can. And has before.” Mickey’s persistent in his desire to engage her on this subject. 

“Why are we even talking about this?” Rose asks somewhat petulantly. “’S not like he’s here.” 

“Actually, he is. He just got back from Texas a few days ago. Saw ‘im at the coffee shop and told him we was datin’. He asked us out to dinner tonight.”

Rose stops in her tracks and turns to Mickey. “He’s _back_?” She shakes her head. “Wait, no, sorry. You did _what_?!”

Mickey smirks. “Well, he asked how you were. Wasn’t half obvious about it, either. So I told ‘im we was dating just to see his reaction. He didn’t do a good job at hiding how he really felt about it.”

“Mickey…” She doesn’t even know what to say. 

“Rose, look, I think we had something a long time ago. But not anymore. You and I both know we’re better off as friends. You’re talented and brilliant, and even if it’s not John, you deserve more.”

Rose swallows, a bit blindsided by the unexpected path their conversation has taken, as well as by the unforeseen maturity demonstrated by Mickey. Struggling to find words, she opens up her arms, and sniffles quietly as Mickey hugs her back. “You’re the best, you know that?” she whispers into his chest. 

“It’s a burden,” he answers. 

Rose thwacks him in the arm.

**& &&&&**

John fiddles restlessly with his silverware and taps out a random rhythm with his foot under the table. Martha sits beside him, casually sipping her glass of water.

 _What on Earth had prompted him to ask Mickey and Rose to dinner?_ The damp, cold air of England must be messing with his mind. 

It’s been clear Rose has wanted nothing to do with him over the last year, and to be honest, he doesn’t blame her. His angsty gob did a fairly good job at running off on its own at winter ball last year, and he hadn’t put forth the effort to really try to work things out with Rose. Maybe it was for the best in the long run, he’d reasoned, especially when he really considered the things he’d said to Christina. However, despite his shoddy excuses, he’d been consumed by thoughts and memories of Rose during his time in Texas. 

John had fallen into a quick friendship with Martha, a brilliant physician (also from London) doing research with the astronautical program, and he knows he’d been more than a bit nauseating about missing Rose. He’s pretty sure Martha fancies him, and he feels more than a little guilty about his unrequited affection for his friend.

Martha and John had returned to London at the same time, and John asked her along tonight as… Well, he’s not exactly sure. Perhaps as a buffer for any awkwardness?

_Oh, he’s a coward._

Just as he turns to Martha to apologize, Rose and Mickey arrive at the table. They’re wearing heavy coats and hats, all of which are covered in flakes of rapidly melting snow. Rose’s arm is linked with Mickey’s, and all he can focus on is the way her cheeks are flushed from the cold and how her entire face lights up when she laughs. And she’s laughing at _Mickey_. 

John stands up and Rose’s face sobers immediately. “Rose,” he says, cursing internally when his tongue refuses to obey orders to continue speaking. Instead, he opens up his arms for a hug and pretends not to notice when Rose hesitates before cautiously returning his embrace. 

He also pretends not to notice how their hug continues for a little longer than convention dictates. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Mickey roll his eyes and glance interestedly at Martha before holding out a hand to introduce himself. 

Rose pulls back first – of course she does – and looks pointedly at John. “Is this your girlfriend, John?” 

Oh! “Ah, no,” he begins, pulling uncomfortably on an earlobe. “This is my friend, Martha. We met at NASA, and it turns out she’s from London, too.”

“Oh?” Rose holds out a hand and shakes Martha’s. “It’s lovely to meet you, Martha. I wish I could say John’s told me all about you, but we’ve, er– Well, this is the first time we’ve spoken in a while.”

John scratches the back of his neck in discomfort, but thankfully Rose saves him from further awkwardness. 

“An’ this is my mate, Mickey.”

“Just your mate?” Martha asks with a cheeky smile. “John said you were bringing your boyfriend. Thought he asked me just so he didn’t have to be the third wheel.”

The two women laugh together, and one part of John is pleased they get on so well, while another part of him pouts at the fact that they’re sharing a laugh at his expense. 

“We’re just mates,” Rose confirms, poking Mickey gently in the chest. “But I’m sure you’re right, Martha. John’s always a bit daft in social situations that make him uncomfortable.”

“Oi!” he whines as they all sit down, but he joins in the laughter that follows. She’s not exactly wrong. 

There are a few moments of silence as they look over the menu, but John looks up when Rose sighs softly. “It’s been a long time, John.”

“I’ve missed you, Rose.”

Next to him, Martha snorts loudly. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“What do you mean?” Rose asks. 

Martha glances quickly at John before answering Rose. “It’s been ‘Rose this’ and ‘Rose that’ all bloody summer. I’m a little relieved you’re as lovely as he said you are. Doesn’t always work out that way.”

John feels the tips of his ears burn in embarrassment. Perhaps inviting Martha had been a horrible idea. Mickey guffaws loudly, clearly amused at John’s discomfort and at Martha’s audacity, and within a few minutes, he and Martha disengage into their own conversation.

Between John and Rose, however, the atmosphere is tense and strained. 

“Rose, I’m so sorry. I never meant to say what I did,” he apologizes. “Donna, uh, told me what I said. I mucked up.”

“John, look, it’s fine.” Rose chews on her thumbnail. “An’ I’m glad you were honest. Really. I just… I wish you’d let people into your life. _Really_ let people into your life. And let them _stay_ there, if there’s no reason for them to leave.” She’s quiet a moment before continuing. “Look, I know you lost your family, an’ I’m so sorry. But if you’re constantly living in fear of losing anything good that happens to you, you’re going to be old and miserable and regret the way you’ve lived your life.”

He nods, slowly processing the truth in Rose’s words. He’d received a similar rendition of Rose’s advice from both Jack and Donna, but coming from Rose, the words feel different, somehow. More meaningful. 

“I think you’re right. But I– I’m not really sure how to do what you said. That is, let go of all the things that hold me back,” he confesses. 

“Well,” Rose says, “you can start by coming to my art exhibition next week. I had a piece selected for display at the Barbican.”

“I think I can do that,” he says with a smile. “I can’t wait to see it. I always said you’d be the next van Gogh.”

Rose blushes. “An’ Mum would love to see you again. She always asks about you, you know.”

John grimaces. “That might be pushing it, Rose. I’m still haunted by nightmares of her kissing me on the lips the last time she saw me.”


	4. The One Where They Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the end!
> 
> Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! 
> 
> xoxo

**YEAR FOUR**

“Donna, are you _sure_ it’s John?” Rose worries her lip as she paces her flat. 

Donna’s voice blares out of her phone. “Of course it’s John, Rose. Who else could it be? The man is crazy about you, with good reason. And if it’s not, I bloody swear I’m going to lock you two in a closet until you shag each other rotten.”

“Donna!” 

“Four years, Rose! Four years I’ve watched you two stare at each other with hearts in your eyes and do nothing about it. Four. Bloody. Years. Of pining and sexual tension and that one horrible year when you didn’t talk to each other at all, and _don’t even get me started about this last year_!”

“What’s wrong with this last year?” Rose protests as she walks back into her ensuite for one last makeup check. “We’re friends again this year.”

“That makes it worse! The pair of you, honestly.” Donna’s practically screeching into her mobile now, and Rose is thankful she put it on speakerphone as she touches up her mascara. 

“Blimey, Donna. I think you need a new hobby,” Rose suggests. 

“Oh, I have one. His name is Lee. I met him a few weeks ago at the library. We’re going to the ball tonight. In fact, that’s him at the door now! Bye!”

Rose ends the call with her friend and stands in front of her mirror, nervous about tonight’s mystery date. For weeks she’s been getting anonymous gifts of flowers (never roses), small gifts, and sweet notes, which culminated a week ago with an invitation to the winter ball tonight. Rose strongly suspects it’s John, especially since she’s supposed to meet her ‘secret admirer’ at the very same bench she first met John, but a tiny part of her still wonders if she’s about to go on a date with a complete stranger. 

But regardless of her date’s identity, at least she looks good in the deep, midnight blue gown sprinkled with tiny silver stars sewn into constellations. Donna’s grandmother’s sapphire and diamond earrings (on loan) dangle from her ears, and for a moment, Rose almost doesn’t recognize the woman in the mirror. She quickly snaps a photo of herself for her Mum, sends it, and grabs her coat and clutch before leaving the flat she shares with Martha and Mickey. 

She only lives ten minutes from the park, but the night is clear and cold, so she walks quickly in her formal attire. On the way, in an attempt to calm her nerves, she thinks about Martha and Mickey and how happy she is they got together. They’re unexpectedly well-suited for each other in a way she and Mickey never managed to achieve, and when they asked if she wanted to be their roommate, she’d hesitantly agreed, if only for the opportunity to move out of her Mum’s flat, a long tube ride away from school. But the arrangement has worked better than any of them imagined, and living close to campus has eased the stress of her final year of uni. 

Rose approaches the park bench and looks around cautiously. A bright pink post-it note in familiar handwriting is taped to the bench, and she leans down to read it. 

_Please sit down. Keep yourself warm with the blanket._

Beneath the note is a plaid, wool blanket folded neatly, so Rose unfolds it and wraps it around her legs and sits down to wait. 

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to wait long before John strolls in front of the bench, hands in his pockets, wearing a tuxedo with black Converse. 

“Hello,” she says, her breath exhaling in a shaky laugh. “I was hoping it was you.”

John grins widely in response. Rose starts to stand, and he points to the bench. “No, sit, please. I have something to say first.” 

“Okay.”

“When I met you four years ago – Four years! Can you believe it, Rose? – the last thing I expected was a friendship with a woman like you. But when I met you, everything changed for me. All the normal sensations were stronger, and I felt if I just held your hand, I could feel the earth turning beneath my feet. I was falling through space, you and me. Rose, you’re strong, compassionate, beautiful, and for some reason you liked being my friend. Of course, I managed to muck it up, but for whatever reason, you forgave me. I’m sorry it’s taken this long for me to ask you, but Rose Tyler, will you be my plus one?”

“John Noble, are you asking me out?”

**& &&&&**

_She said yes, she said yes, she said yes._

It’s all he can do to stop looking at Rose in order to pay attention to where he’s going. It only took him four bloody years, but he _finally_ asked out the love of his life, and now all he can think about is pressing his lips to hers and losing himself in her embrace and… 

Woah. One step at a time.

_When did he turn into such a sentimental sap?_

In response to his thoughts, he squeezes Rose’s hand a little bit harder, and she looks up at him with a smile. He gives her a goofy grin in return, and they walk the rest of the way to the winter ball. 

It’s a giddy feeling, this – knowing someone wants to be with him and accepts him for who he is, despite his impressive list of faults. And that someone is currently holding his hand, looking breathtakingly beautiful. 

“You look beautiful,” he says. “Well, you’re always beautiful, but tonight…”

Rose’s eyes twinkle merrily, reflecting the street lights, as she looks up at him. “Thank you, John.” They walk along the sidewalk, their hands swinging between them. “I’m surprised you wore your unlucky tux tonight. Not that I mind, let’s be clear about that.” She winks at him.

“Oh? Really?” He preens at her implication and grins a cocky smile when she rolls her eyes. 

“Yes, you git. You’re distractingly handsome when you wear a tux.”

Puffing his chest out a little in response, he replies to her comment. “Oooh, I thought it was time to break the curse of the unlucky tux. Maybe try my hand at a lucky tux. Seems like it’s working already.”

“Don’t count your eggs before they hatch,” Rose quips. 

“Oi! Are you saying I’m _not_ going to get lucky?”

“I think you already are,” she says. 

After several minutes of walking, they finally arrive at the building the ball is held. They hurry up the steps, show their tickets at the door, and walk into the welcoming heat of the building. 

“Blimey,” Rose exclaims. “I didn’t realize how cold I was until we got inside.” She reluctantly checks her coat, and takes John’s arm, pressing herself close to his body to absorb his body heat.

“Come on,” he says, “Let’s go find Donna. I’m sure she’s anxious to know how our meeting in the park went.” 

“I knew it!” Rose pumps her fist in the air as they walk inside the festive ballroom.

“Knew what?” he asks.

“Well, Donna never told me about your specific plans, but she insisted my secret admirer _had_ to be you.” Rose gives him her tongue-touched smile. “An’ she may have also threatened to lock us in a closet until we – and I quote – ‘shag each other rotten’ if we didn’t get together soon.” 

John squeaks in a rather undignified manner and feels his face flush. 

“And I would have, too, but thankfully it looks like your meeting in the park went well.” Donna announces her presence by responding to Rose’s explanation. “Unless…” She trails off and looks horrified for a moment. “Unless it’s going to take you another four years to kiss her.” 

John and Rose look shyly at each other, both of them blushing slightly, until they’re interrupted by a familiar American voice. 

“Nah, I took care of that. Look up, you two lovebirds. God, you’re adorable.” Jack, looking rather dapper in a tuxedo himself, appears at Donna’s side, and he grins suggestively at Rose and John.

John and Rose look up to find an enormous bunch of mistletoe – much larger than necessary – hanging from the ceiling. John’s jaw falls open, and after a surprised shared look with Rose, they turn to Jack, who’s standing next to Donna, both wearing matching pleased-as-punch grins on their faces. 

“We figured it was necessary to maximize our chances of you actually using the mistletoe for its intended purposes, since you’re both a bit thick,” Donna explains. 

“Oi!” Rose protests without heat. 

John’s still staring at the mistletoe. “That’s a lot… Hey! How’d you know we’d stand right here?”

Jack grins. “There are exactly thirty-seven bunches of mistletoe around the ballroom. We figured at some point, you’d stand under one of them. And we were right,” he says. 

“So, you gonna kiss her, or do we actually have to push you together?” Donna asks. 

“Ehm…” he trails off, turning hesitantly to Rose.

“Oh my God. John, kiss me,” Rose demands, and before he can act on her command, she’s grabbing him by his jacket lapels and pulls him down. 

John’s lips press against hers – _finally_ – and he melts into her touch. His arms wrap around her, pulling her flush against him, and he almost purrs when her hands drift up the back of his neck, her fingers twisting in his hair. Rose fits against him perfectly, her body and lips, and his eyes flutter closed so he can focus on the way her lips move against his. They’re soft and plump, still slightly cold from their walk to the ball, and he tentatively runs his tongue against her bottom lip. Her mouth opens fully – and oh, does he love the way she groans in appreciation – and their tongues slide effortlessly against each other.

He drifts in this tiny bubble of perfection, as if they are floating alone in space, until a throat clears behind them. 

“Maybe I do need to just shove them in a closet, what do you think, Jack?” Donna says. 

“Nah, just let them be, Donna. They’ve waited long enough for this,” Jack answers.

Donna snorts. “Oh, you just like the view, don’t you?” 

Jack shrugs. “Not my fault they’re so gorgeous.”

John and Rose pull apart when Mickey announces his and Martha’s arrival with a loud cat call, and they stare at each other, breathless and flushed. 

“Jack,” John asks, without looking away from Rose, “where’s the other mistletoe? Rose and I have some catching up to do.”


End file.
